


From my head to my middle finger.

by mylovenotehasgoneflat



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frerard, Heartbreak, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylovenotehasgoneflat/pseuds/mylovenotehasgoneflat
Summary: Frank Iero endures a terrible heartbreak.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first time I write something, and I'm really not good with words. Sorry in advance for the mediocre content.

We meet again old friend.  
It's been years since we last spoke —i'm the one who's always spitting words, actually— and I felt like a whole, healthy person. I believe I tried to hold it all in, but somehow my body's like an old building and feelings flooded and weakened me to a point in which I no longer could resist.  
You're probably wondering what's going on inside me, and that's why I'm here— a huge shit storm is what's going on.

If there's a God he knows how hard I've tried and how hard it is for me to move on. I never did, though, like you can imagine.  
I try my best to stay focused and busy. I mean, you know what they say: if you're busy enough you don't have time to think about the bullshit that's crawling inside your brain— and I say bullshit cause that's what it is. When something's already living in your brain (a memory, a song, a thought, whatever), you don't get to have a break from it: it's there and it'll be there at all times.

Just like they picture it in disgustingly cliché romantic movies, _I constantly find myself thinking about us_ — and I know if you could talk you'd be telling me this is getting old and people just let go but we both know I'm not the type who just moves on, this has been on my head for years now and it's beginning to completely consume me.  
_I miss things_. Miss feeling accompanied, understood maybe— I miss the sound of our laughters, and how they made it all disappear. Miss drinking coffee til 5 AM in our ugly pajamas while the TV vomits some weak comedy we don't care about at all, because we have each other's attention. Hate to sound like a 15 year old girl going through her first break up, but you gotta admit you have to be strong to endure living with an aching heart.  
This wasn't a break up, though, it was just a mess.  
There's something incredibly romantic behind a terrible pain like the one living inside me, _it makes me feel completely alive, but dead as well._

I'm writing this words in order to feel a little relief, things are getting extremely difficult and I have no one else to talk to— imagine keeping all this thoughts to yourself, it burns and makes you wanna rip your skin off.  
I will be gone for a few weeks, but we'll talk soon.

XO, Frank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He still a sad bitch.

All this time I thought I finally healed — turns out I was just ignoring the huge ass gunshot in my chest and now I'm starting to feel the bullet inside me again.

It's been a long time —again, I'm sorry friend— since I last checked in, I've been busy.  
The band's good, thanks for asking. The kids are okay too, everything's fine.  
I won't fuck around — I saw him last week. Of course, I'll give you the details.  
We met a few months ago, he came to a show, right? It was nice, I guess, just weird. People staring at us, taking photos and all that bullshit. Fucking awkward.  
This time was different.  
We had dinner, I told him the night before that we needed to talk. We talked. He asked me about the kids, I asked him about his kid, he laughed when I told him Lily speaks in cat language. It fucking punched me in the face — his goddamned laugh threw me back to the past.  
I froze and he realized, he asked me what was wrong. I simply threw up the words.  
_«I miss you»_ I said. His face changed, he was surprised but he never looked away. He was staring at me with a face I didn't fucking recognize.  
I was about to leave, I swear to god. My hands were shaking, why the fuck did I say that? Why the fuck didn't he leave already?  
_«I know, and I miss you too, you know?»_ he finally said. I barely heard him, I was too busy fucking zoning out.  
He looked sadder than ever, I suppose I looked that way too.  
_«It's hard»_ I said. He replied with a simple _«I know»._  
We've been through so much, but why?  
I blinked. Saw our entire past behind my eyelids in a second.  
_«So, what should we do about it? This»_ I asked. I didn't get an answer, just an angsty look.  
I grabbed my jacket and left him there. We haven't spoke since.

That motherfucker. Not then, not now.  
I'm tired of crying, yelling and writing about it.  
Who the fuck writes in a journal anyways?

Won't talk anytime soon.  
XO, Frnk.


End file.
